


Matchmaker, Matchmaker

by Ella_Greggs



Series: Groomzilla Vignettes [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Romance, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ella_Greggs/pseuds/Ella_Greggs
Summary: David will stop at nothing to get his perfect wedding.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Groomzilla Vignettes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647694
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> I've been rooting for these two since season 3 episode 7 "General Store."

David plucked nervously at his Dolce and Gabbana black sweater as he and Patrick crossed the street from Rose Apothecary to Café Tropical.

“David, you worry too much. I’m sure he can do it."

“You don’t understand. Our wedding has a very specific aesthetic and it’s hard for me to believe a man with his limited culinary experience has the requisite skill to pull off this critical element.”

“It’s not _that_ critical,” Patrick muttered as he held the door open for David. He guided them to a nearby booth. “Hi Ivan.”

The big man looked up from his coffee. “Hello Patrick. Hello David. What I do for you?”

“Well, it’s about our wedding,” Patrick began.

“Ah, yes. I hear from Twyla. Congratulations.”

“Thanks," Patrick replied. "So we were wondering, have you ever made a wedding cake?”

“More specifically, a six-tiered fruitcake with Dior white fondant icing, embellished with Spanish lace piping, roses, and garlands?”

“David, I told you,” Patrick quietly admonished his fiancé. “It doesn’t have to be identical to Kate Middleton’s cake. Something simpler will be fine, Ivan. Maybe just three tiers of lemon chiffon with buttercream frosting.”

“Or better, Ivan, _six_ tiers. Three tiers of fruitcake, plus three more tiers of fruitcake, all covered in Dior white fondant and decorated with Spanish lace piping, roses, and garlands.”

Ivan stared first at one man and then the other and blinked slowly. “You want I bake cake for you?”

Patrick nodded. “That’s the idea. You’re the best baker in town.”

“You’re the only baker in t- OWCH!” David rubbed his arm where Patrick had surreptitiously smacked him.

“You’re the _best_ baker in town,” Patrick said brightly, “and we would be honored if you would create a cake just for us.”

Ivan furrowed his brow. “Will people dress nice at wedding?”

“Um, yes.”

“And will there be dancing, like in Fred Astaire movies?”

“Probably not that elaborate, but yes, we’re planning on dancing after the ceremony.”

The burly man thought about it for a moment. “Okay. I do this for you. But I have price.”

Patrick smiled. “I’m sorry, we should have made that clear – we’ll pay you, of course. Do you know more or less how much a cake like we’re describing might cost?”

“I no want money.”

“Oh?”

“I want to come to wedding.”

“Oh. In that case,” said David, visions of royal confections dancing in his head, “would you like the chicken or the vegetarian option?”

The big man hesitated and shot a quick glance at the counter where Twyla was busy making a smoothy. He dropped his voice low. “I want to sit next to Twyla.”

Patick’s eyes widened a bit but David was already nodding vigorously. “Yes, we can do that.”

Ivan hesitated again. “Can you help me find good suit? And teach me nice things to say to her? And help me learn good dancing to dance with her?”

“Ivan, will you give us just a minute?” Patrick pulled his fiancé aside. “David, this is taking on a lot, playing matchmaker for Ivan with Twyla. I mean, what if she doesn’t even like him that way?”

“Are you saying you _don’t_ want me to have the wedding cake of my dreams?”

“Of course that’s not what I’m saying. But I mean, c’mon, Twyla’s not a bargaining chip. She’s got to have a voice in all this.”

“Okay, fine.” David huffed. He turned back to Ivan and his painfully hopeful expression. “Stay right there.”

“Hey, Twy,” David said with excess enthusiasm as he slid onto a stool at the counter.

“Oh hi, David. How’s the wedding planning going?”

“Funny you should ask. You’re coming, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Great. So, are you bringing a date, or…?”

“Nah. I haven’t had too much luck with guys lately. It’s like they don’t really appreciate me, y’know?”

“Hmm.”

“I mean, I’d like to go with someone. It kind of sucks to be stag at a wedding.”

“Well,” David said brightly, “what if I set you up with a really nice guy.”

“Oh yeah, like who?”

He hugged his hands to his chest as though he could hardly contain his joy. “Ivan.”

Twyla looked over David’s shoulder at the burly baker, who immediately blanched and looked down at his coffee. “You mean muffins Ivan?”

“I don’t think there’s another man in this entire county named Ivan.”

“Well,” Twyla hesitated. “He’s nice and all, but I’ve never really talked to him. He’s very quiet.”

“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Once I was at this party where Anne Hathaway just would not shut up about how much she hated her costume in _Les Mis_ and kept insisting Hugh Jackman really wasn’t _all that!”_

“Huh. I really liked her in _The Princess Diaries._ ”

“What? No. My point is sometimes it can be nice to be around someone who isn’t talking about themselves all the time.”

Twyla gave him an indulgent smile. “Well, how about this – why don’t you put us at the same table? That way, there will be plenty of other people around so we can talk or not talk. No pressure.”

David squeezed her arm warmly. “That’s a great solution, Twy. This wedding cake, um, I mean this _wedding_ is going to be perfect.”

Twyla smiled again and turned away to grab an order of mozzarella sticks just out of the oven.

David hopped excitedly back to the booth where Patrick and Ivan were sitting. “You’re all set. So I’ll send you the recipe and some photos and – “

Patrick looked a little surprised and a little impressed. “She agreed?”

“Yes,” David snapped. “I was very persuasive. We’ll sit you right next to her, Ivan.”

Ivan beamed as though Christmas had come early. “And suit?”

“We can hunt for something in Elmdale on Sunday when the Apothecary is closed.”

“And dancing?” Ivan pressed on hopefully.

Patrick turned to David, curious to see how his fiancé was going to manage this tricky request. David thought for a moment. Could his mother help? No, not without bringing the baker to tears. But maybe there was someone. “I’ll ask my dad to coach you. He’s a decent ballroom dancer.”

“And romantic talk, like _When Harry Met Sally?_ ”

David threw up his hands. “Honestly, Ivan! You can’t expect me to do all the work here!” The baker looked crestfallen. David scrunched up his eyes and relented. “Fine! I’ll ask Alexis for some lines you can memorize. So do we have a deal?”

Ivan stuck out his hand. “We have a deal. Thank you, David. Thank you, Patrick. I bake masterpiece for you.”

As the couple headed back across the street to Rose Apothecary Patrick turned and gave David a peck on the cheek. “Well, well. David Rose – Schitt’s Creek’s resident cupid. You know, you might be doing a really good thing for those two.”

David shrugged, trying his best to seem indifferent despite his little grin. “I’m just in it for the cake.”

**Author's Note:**

> So what do you think - will "Twyvan" come to pass? Here's the cake David wants, if you can believe it - https://www.eonline.com/photos/25760/royal-wedding-cakes/880067


End file.
